Again and again Hector cried out for help and deliverance from his prison, but, even had there been any one near, they could hardly have heard him through the thick walls and solid door of the fur-house.

Pressing his ear against the join of the door, he heard the fierce barking of the collies growing fainter and fainter, until presently he heard it no more. Evidently they had been dragged off by the half-breed, and confined somewhere.

The truth of the matter was that, to the dogs, Hector owed the alarming situation in which he found himself. While he hung about the gate of the fort, the half-breed had noticed the splendid creatures, and, at once coveting them, set about getting them into his possession. Extraordinary as his conduct may seem, the subsequent experiences of the settlers showed only too clearly that he really was not running any great risk of trouble to himself.

The faithful collies, knowing that their young master was shut up in the fur-house, stayed close at the door, and this enabled the rascally half-breed, with the aid of another whom he called upon, to fasten thongs around their necks, and to drag them off, in spite of their frantic opposition.

Hector shouted and kicked at the door, until, at last, exhausted and despairing, he threw himself down among the furs, and burst into futile tears.

‘What are they going to do to me?’ he sobbed. ’Oh, I wish I’d never gone near the fort! How can father find out where I am?’

How, indeed, was the question. Mr. Macrae had many things to engross his attention, and Mrs. Macrae was so used to Hector’s roaming about on his own account, that she would not be apt to miss him until sundown. As it fell out, it was from a most unlooked-for source that the clue came. Having made the best arrangements they could for shelter, and these were very scant at best, the settlers gathered together for their evening meal. Then did the mother-heart of Mrs. Macrae begin to feel concerned for her son. ‘Where is Hector?’ she asked her husband. ’I have na seen him these many hours. Was he no with you?’

‘He was no with me at all,’ answered Mr. Macrae, turning his keen glance in every direction. ’He went aff with the twa dogs a gude while ago, and I didna see just which way he went.’

‘God grant he’s na got into any harm!’ sighed Mrs. Macrae. ’’Tis a strange place this, and there’s na tellin’ what may happen to the laddie.’

‘Oh, he’s a’ richt,’ responded her husband, cheerfully. ’He’ll be wanting his bannocks, and that’ll bring him back soon.’

But when night fell, and still no sign of Hector, the Macraes grew very anxious. Andrew set out to make enquiries, and went through the party of settlers, asking if any of them had seen the boy since mid-day. Several of them had noticed him strolling about, accompanied by the dogs, but no one could say definitely in what direction he had gone.

When the mystery was at its height, and the whole party was aroused to concern for the missing boy, suddenly Dour appeared, and rushed up to Mr. Macrae, barking joyfully. The remains of a raw-hide thong, which he had bitten through close to his body, hung about his neck, and, with all the means of expression at the command of the most sagacious of his kind, he strove to tell his story.

‘Gude dog! Gude dog!’ murmured Mr. Macrae, patting the clever creature fondly. ‘There’s been ill wark, nae doot. Come with me, friends, an’ we’ll sift it to the verrà bottom.’

Slipping pistols into their pockets, for there was no telling what might happen, half-a-dozen of the men signified their readiness to accompany Mr. Macrae in the search for his son. They were stalwart, stern-looking men, with shaggy faces, and piercing, fearless eyes not the men to be trifled with by any one, and now deeply intent upon their purpose, for their hearts beat in sympathy for the anxious father and mother.

‘Lead on, Dour, gude dog,’ said Andrew; ’ye dootless ken the way. We’ll keep close ahind ye.’

The intelligent animal, fully grasping his master’s meaning, set off at once straight for the fort, the men following at a rapid jog-trot, in order not to be left behind. When they arrived at the fort they found the gate closed, but, as Dour was insistent about entering, Mr. Macrae did not hesitate to rap loud and long upon the stout timber with the butt of his pistol.

For some time there was no response, for although those inside had not yet gone to bed, they were all so engrossed in drinking, smoking, talking, or gambling that they did not hear him. At last a rough voice was heard demanding in a surly tone: ‘What do you want? Who are you?’

‘I want to see the Governor of the Fort,’ replied Mr. Macrae, in a tone that had no uncertain sound about it.

‘He no see you now. He busy,’ was the growling reply, as the speaker turned to go away.

‘But I maun see him, and that richt awa,’ retorted Mr. Macrae, and at his signal the whole party fell to smiting the gate with their heavy pistol butts. This thundering tattoo evidently impressed the man inside, for he came back to the gate, and, in a slow, sulky fashion, proceeded to unfasten the stout bars that held it. Opening it a couple of inches, he peered suspiciously at the importunate callers, but the latter gave him no time to scrutinize them; for, led by Mr. Macrae, they threw themselves upon the heavy gate, forced it wide open, and charged through ere the bewildered Metis realized their purpose.

There was no difficulty in distinguishing the factor’s residence, for it fairly blazed with light, and thither the group of stern, stalwart men directed their steps, Dour, satisfied that they knew what they were about, keeping close at his master’s heels.

The door of the house stood wide open, but Mr. Macrae did not attempt to enter without first rapping in a proper manner. His summons brought out a young lad, evidently from Scotland, who showed a very different spirit from the surly half-breed at the gate. ‘Ye wad hae a word wi’ the Governor, eh?’ he asked, with a pleasant smile. ’Just bide ye there, an’ I’ll gie him yer message.’

He disappeared into the room at the right, and Mr. Macrae prepared himself to address the important official he had asked for. But he was not to have that privilege in a hurry. The minutes went by without the Governor appearing, or the young Scotsman returning, and, in rising wrath, Andrew Macrae was just about to knock on the inside door, when suddenly it opened, and there stood before him a thick-set, shaggy-haired personage, whose deeply flushed features showed that he had been dining not wisely but too well. ‘What is it?’ he demanded brusquely. ’Why do you bother me now? Why can’t you wait until the morning?’

In a firm, yet respectful, tone, Hector’s father stated the reason of his coming. ‘Tut! Tut!’ growled the man. ’I can’t attend to that to-night. Come back to-morrow,’ and he was about to close the door, when Mr. Macrae, with a quick movement, thrust his foot against it, and at the same moment he laid his hand firmly upon the factor’s arm.

’It’s ma ain bairn I’m seeking, and I shall na leave here until I find him.’ As he spoke, his companions pressed close behind him, shoulder to shoulder.

The factor’s bloodshot eyes went from one stern, intent face to another. Manifestly, these were not men to be trifled with. Obscured by strong drink as his brain was, enough sense remained to understand that. With an oath he flung the door open, and said sneeringly: ’Do ye expect to find him in here?’

Through the cloud of tobacco smoke that filled the room, Mr. Macrae saw several men sitting at the table with glasses before them.

‘Surely not;’ he replied, an accent of fine scorn in his deep voice. ‘But with your permission, I’ll search the fort.’

‘Do so, and ’ here followed rough words, but Andrew, having gained his point, took no notice of the man’s gross rudeness.